


Coffee and Tattoos

by Snowpiercer



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowpiercer/pseuds/Snowpiercer
Summary: the one where they both have dayjobs and cross paths one morning.
Relationships: Collins/Farrier (Dunkirk)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23
Collections: I guess we have something common.





	Coffee and Tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> dont @ me idk how tattoos work

Farrier parked behind his work, not really caring at all that his truck was taking up two parks because he couldn’t be bothered parking properly, jogging across the road to grab a coffee. What he didn’t expect to see was a delightfully blond man standing behind the coffee machine, who he’d never seen before.

“Morning! How can I help ye?”

And he was Scottish.

“Uh, double shot black, thanks.”

It was Collins’ first day on the job, when not at the airbase he was a café worker, and knew his way around a Ruggero well enough. He made the coffee, which smelled so strong he felt a bit faint, and served it to the equally strong looking man in front of him, the brunet sliding a handful of change onto the counter and muttering “keep it” before taking off out the door.

“Ah yeah he’s a regular, don’t mind him.” Said Guthrie, the one who had got Collins the job in the first place after the old café he was in had shut down because it went broke.

“Still wondering why you’re working in a shitty coffee shop on your off days,” Guthrie added,

“Just want something normal, ye know?” Collins replied, it was also that the perks of free snacks at work was well worth it.

Farrier walked back into his workplace, a tattoo parlour. Everyone had day jobs, he was just lucky he genuinely enjoyed his almost as much as he enjoyed being in the RAF. Wasn’t like you got to fly the jets every single day, you had to find something to do with your downtime.

After everyone had said their good mornings to everyone else, he settled at his station and waited for the day’s clients to begin trickling in. For some reason the lanky man behind the coffee shop stuck in his mind though, his blue eyes had burned themselves into the back of Farrier’s mind.

Collins didn’t see the so-called ‘regular’ man again for a few days, making him wonder how regular he was at all, in turn making him realise he was still thinking about him. The blond had a whole two weeks off, something that only happened once in a blue moon. This time it was because someone had decided to land the Globemaster without putting the wheels down first, causing an immense amount of damage to not only the plane but the runway. Everyone was off until the place was fixed.

It had been in Collins’ mind for years now, that he wanted to get a tattoo, well, a second one, but being so busy he never got the chance. Upon seeing the ‘regular’ and his many tattoos, and discussing it with Guthrie, his mind was set.

“Well, I didn’t even know you military folk were meant to have them,”

“Maybe not in the old days but now it’s fine.” The blond said.

“So what’s it going to be?”

“A plane,”

Guthrie just started laughing at him.

“Of course it is, just don’t make it look stupid, you bloody hipster.”

Collins was very much aware that he didn’t strike people as the type that would want a tattoo, and he would never want anything big, but a nod to the RAF seemed right in his mind. He already had a tattoo, he just didn’t tell people about it. It was on his ankle and it was a little tree. It had been a drunken decision, and he’d always wanted to get a tattoo sober, one that meant something. It was going to be a Spitfire, something that meant freedom, an unwillingness to be bullied, a nice sentiment in Collins’ eyes, probably something Guthrie would laugh at. Then again, he’d get laughed at regardless.

After several days back on base, Farrier was off again for the weekend. He went back to the coffee shop and the blond man wasn’t there, just Guthrie as usual.

“Got yourself a little protégé, do you?” he asked as the man made his usual order without bothering to ask what he wanted. It never changed.

“He’s been my mate for years, kitchen he used to work in closed down, so I got him over here now, man can pull a good coffee.” Guthrie explained, Farrier nodding absent-mindedly. He took his coffee and his leave, walking back to work.

Collins had asked for the Saturday off so he could get ready for his tattoo, being overly worried and feeling like he needed to not go to work for at least a whole day. He didn’t know what the recovery was like for getting one anyway, not remembering any of his stupid tree tattoo until waking up the next day with it there. He was glad that even in a drunken state he picked something he liked anyway.

Farrier was one of the people who managed the parlour, he was always the last there every day he was off the airbase. This was one such day, he was packing up his tattoo gun and cleaning when the only other staff member there, Vernel, came in.

“You can head off, Vernel. I’ll lock up.” He said, assuming the younger man was asking if he could leave.

“Actually we’ve got a walk in, I said you wouldn’t mind. Says he wants something small and, to be honest boss we don’t close for a while, so I said it would be alright.”

Farrier internally groaned, they shut early half the time because nobody came in, he supposed it was fair that they actually stay open until they were supposed to.

“Well you can still get going if you want, I’ll do it.”

“Thanks boss, see you when I see you,” Vernel said, and left. Farrier got off his chair to go and see who this walk in was and suss out what they wanted. He walked out of the back room where he worked to see the Scot from the coffee shop.  
“Oh, hi.” The blond said,

“Hello, fancy seeing you here.” Farrier replied, drinking the sight in.

“Been driving all around London looking for a tattoo place, didn’t even see this across the road.”

“Yeah we’re pretty hidden away. You can call me Farrier, it’s nice to meet you, again I suppose.” He said, holding a hand out to shake.

“You can call me Collins then.” The blond smiled and took his hand, which was strong and warm. Farrier didn’t really register that he’d introduced himself with his last name, and that the blond had done the same.

“So what were you looking for?” Farrier asked, sitting behind the front desk. The man before him was tall, pale, and quite frankly very attractive. He had these big blue eyes too that seemed to be watching Farrier, admiring his own tattoos most likely.

“Well, not anything too big but I was looking for something either on the back of my shoulder or here,” Collins said, lifting an arm up and pointing to the underside of his bicep, which was sadly hidden beneath a long sleeved shirt.

“Sure, did you have an idea in mind?”

“Do you know what a Spitfire is?”

Farrier laughed at that, at first Collins assumed it was because he did know, and thought it was dumb. Then the man held out his arm and Collins could properly see what some of the tattoos were. Amongst several seemingly random tattoos was a scene of Big Ben, the Thames, the London Eye, and Spitfires in the sky.

“Oh, Battle of Britain?” Collins asked.

“Yes, actually. I’m Air Force so I thought it right to get something to commemorate the golden years, you know?”

“I guess we have something in common,” Collins smiled, reaching down his shirt to pull out his dog tags, he never took them off out of habit.

“Oh, god small world, isn’t it?” Farrier laughed, pulling out his own.

“What base?” the brunet asked.

“Biggin Hill, you?”

“Cranwell.”

Collins felt some sort of heat in his cheeks at how prestigious a base Cranwell was.

“Oh, hang on your base was the one with that big Globemaster crash!” Farrier said as he led Collins into the room, sitting him down on the chair which wasn’t dissimilar to the ones at the dentist.

“Yeah, I’m off for two weeks at shortest while they fix it all,” the blond explained.

After a bit of conversation Collins settled on having it on the underside of his bicep on account of it being easier to hide, Farrier took Collins back into the room with his tattoo gun.

“Sensitive skin there, you had a tattoo before?”  
“Not while sober,” Collins laughed.

Farrier talked him through the ins and outs of how it would be, and they settled on a small design of a Spitfire’s silhouette.

“Ready?” the brunet asked, Collins nodded and began to unbutton his shirt. Farrier had no shame in letting his eyes wander over the man’s body as he was preoccupied taking his shirt off. It was pale and smooth, a smattering of freckles across his shoulders, and a line of hair ran down his front into his trousers. He lay down, arm outstretched above his head. He was sturdier than Farrier had assumed at first glance. He wiped the area with disinfectant, and rested the arm he wasn’t using to do the tattoo over Collins’ shoulder to steady it.

“Breath in,” he said,

“Breath out,” and as the blond did, he began to draw. The muscles jolted a little at the sensation, and without realising, Farrier found the thumb on his other hand rubbing up and down on Collins’ shoulder. If Collins wasn’t some sort of masochist before, he was now. Watching this man with his tattoo gun at his own arm was maddening, and Collins didn’t know how to react to the fact that he’d have to see him frequently at the coffee shop.

“So, what are you? Ground crew? Engineer?” Farrier asked, feeling the thick tension in the air and feeling Collins’ blue eyes on him.

“Pilot.”

“You don’t say, me too!” he chuckled, remaining wholly still as he made the design.

“You fly F35s?” Farrier asked, Collins nodded. This boy was surprising him at every turn.

“Why not get a tatt of one of those?”

“Doesn’t have the same meaning behind it, does it?” the blond said, Farrier shrugged in agreement.

“Personally I liked the F22s more, but can’t complain flying jets like that, can you?” Farrier chuckled.

“So yer on the F35s too?”

“Mm,”

His thumb hadn’t stopped caressing the man’s shoulder, even if his arm muscles had long stopped twitching at the pain. Collins’ eyes were still on Farrier as he lay there feeling very exposed and not disliking the feeling.

“I think,” Farrier began in a low voice, he stopped the tattoo gun for a second and moved it off Collins skin, for the first time since Collins sat down, Farrier’s eyes moved to his. They were a dark aquamarine, the blond was unable to look away.

“We have something else in common, hmm?” the brunet said, those big blue eyes giving him an answer even if those pretty lips didn’t.

there were unspoken words between people, and somehow they just knew when they were the same.

He continued the tattoo until it was finished, Collins hadn’t been looking so it would be a surprise.

“It’s, it’s amazing! Just how I imagined.” He smiled, holding his arm out.

“Well it’s my job, glad you like it, Collins.” Farrier said.

The slender man got his shirt back on and paid, listening to the brunet’s advice on how to keep it for the next few days.

Seeing each other regularly at the coffee shop was about to get a lot more tense.


End file.
